


Disturbance

by Mildredo



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Community: kbl-reversebang, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 11:54:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2268738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mildredo/pseuds/Mildredo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>dis·tur·bance</p>
<p>disˈtərbəns</p>
<p>noun</p>
<p>the interruption of a settled and peaceful condition.<br/>the disruption of healthy functioning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disturbance

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired structurally and, to an extent, content-wise by Sarah Kane’s 4:48 Psychosis. It’s not necessary to know the play to read the fic, but if you do know it you’ll notice several references to the text hidden (and not-so-hidden) within. It’s not a 4:48 AU, more an homage to one of my favourite playwrights.

 

  
**“Some will call this self-indulgence  
(they are lucky not to know its truth)   
Some will know the simple fact of pain **

**This is becoming my normality”**  
Sarah Kane,  _4:48 Psychosis_.

  
  
_agitation.confusion.disorder.disruption.explosion.interruption.intrusion.shock.turmoil.upheaval._    
  
  
  
Blaine wakes up with his heart racing.  
  
Blaine always wakes up with his heart racing.  
  
The familiar dip in the bed beside him isn’t there.  
  
Kurt isn’t there.  
  
He opens his eyes but it’s just as dark and he frantically looks around for a spot of light to tell him that he isn’t blind.  
  
There’s a thin strip of light forcing its way through the crack underneath the door and Blaine’s heart keeps racing.  
  
If he listens, he thinks he can hear noises outside the room, but it could just as easily be the blood pounding in his ears.  
  
He gets out of bed and his knees almost buckle.  
  
He walks slowly, carefully.  
  
He doesn’t make a sound.  
  
Just in case.  
  
The door handle squeaks as he presses it down, and the sound is so sudden in the still and the quiet that Blaine jumps and gives a shout.  
  
He focuses his energy on walking across the apartment into the kitchen and not falling over.  
  
Kurt turns his head where he stands at the stove and watches.  
  
Blaine wraps his arms around Kurt’s waist from behind and his heart starts to slow.  
  
Kurt continues to stir his pan of milk.  
  
  
  
dark cold loud quiet break rip pour sear hurt dark cold loud quiet break rip pour sear hurt dark cold loud quiet break rip pour sear hurt

not him

  
  
  
  
Kurt knows the signs.  
  
He sleeps more lightly for knowing them.  
  
A shift. An unconscious groan. An unintelligible cry to things that only exist inside Blaine’s head.  
  
Only exist there now, anyway.  
  
It doesn’t matter what the time is.  
  
He gets up and starts heating the milk.  
  
Blaine will appear soon after.  
  
He’ll stumble to Kurt and wrap himself around him and his breathing will steady and his heart rate will lower.  
  
They’ll drink their milk.  
  
Sometimes Blaine tries to talk about it.  
  
Sometimes he just needs Kurt to be there.  
  
He keeps part of himself touching Kurt.  
  
A foot or a hand or a cheek.  
  
The touch grounds him.  
  
He’s safe.  
  
He knows he’s safe.  
  
They go back to bed together and sleep until the day breaks, wound around each other.  
  
It happens every night.  
  
  
  
quiet dark loud cold scream sear blood rip hurt blood quiet dark loud rip sear scream hurt cold scream blood dark rip quiet hurt sear loud

please not him

  
  
  
  
Kurt doesn’t mind.  
  
It’s comforting for him too.  
  
He has nightmares sometimes.  
  
Not like Blaine does.  
  
Not all the time.  
  
The routine is enough to calm Kurt.  
  
He takes care of Blaine because it’s all he can do.  
  
Blaine got the worst of it.  
  
Blaine had to see things.  
  
Kurt had to live them, but living them doesn’t hurt as much.  
  
He can disconnect.  
  
That was the past.  
  
That wasn’t real.  
  
That wasn’t him.  
  
Blaine can’t disconnect.  
  
Blaine had to watch.  
  
Kurt can compartmentalize but there’s no compartment big enough for Blaine.  
  
He watches every night as if it were the first time.  
  
The real time.  
  
  
  
blood pour rip scream cold quiet weak dark sear blood pour rip scream cold quiet weak dark sear blood pour rip scream cold quiet weak dark sear

he’s the most precious gem   
he shines in the lowest of light   
he cannot be tarnished   
tarnish me

  
  
  
  
“Tell me what happened.”  
“I can’t.”  
“Something. Anything.”  
“I can’t. I can’t remember.”  
“You can’t remember?”  
“I only remember at night. It’s only there in nightmares. It’s gone again in the morning.”  
“Do you remember anything about the nightmares?”  
“Dark. Scared. And then I wake up and I’m having a panic attack.”  
“How do you cope with the panic attacks?”  
“My fiancé knows when I’m about to wake up. He makes warm milk. I have to touch him and make sure he’s real.”  
“Do you have panic attacks in the day?”  
“No. I’m on edge all day. I’m jumpy. I feel like I’m aware of everything. Like radar.”  
“Do you go outside often?”  
“When it’s quieter. Holidays, bad weather, days when people don’t go outside. I like to walk in the park while the kids are all in school. I don’t like being around crowds.”  
“Do you have any long term goals?”  
“I want to go back to school. I want to perform again. I want to get married.”  
“What about the short term?”  
“I want to sleep. I want to breathe.”  
  
  
  
Blaine can see it taking its toll on Kurt.  
  
He always looks tired.  
  
He doesn’t work as much.  
  
He’s dropped down to part time in school.  
  
He’s turning into Blaine’s caretaker.  
  
Blaine doesn’t want a caretaker.  
  
He wants a fiancé.  
  
He wants a life.  
  
He wants to get past it.  
  
He clings.  
  
He’s always clung.  
  
Kurt withdraws, and that makes clinging hard.  
  
Blaine sees him trying hard not to withdraw now.  
  
Blaine needs to cling to him or he’ll fall into oblivion.  
  
The breathing exercises help in the day.  
  
He thinks about them all day and they make the weight in his stomach feel lighter.  
  
He can’t remember them at night.  
  
He drinks his milk and holds Kurt’s hand.  
  
  
  
Helpless.  
Alone.  
Watching.  
  
Kick.  
Hit.  
Dizzy.  
  
Blood.  
Pain.  
Shout.

not him  
don’t  
please

  
  
Begging.  
Watching.  
Screaming.  


don’t  
hurt  
him

  
  
  
  
Kurt needs more hours in a day. He’s only taking two classes this semester. He doesn’t have the time or the energy to perform so he’s only taking written classes right now. He can’t take dance again until his doctor agrees he’s ready. He works a couple of shifts but he can’t take any more and money is low. Blaine is a full time job.  
  
It’s not his fault.  
  
It’s nobody’s fault.  
  
It’s somebody’s fault.  
  
Kurt doesn’t begrudge Blaine his comfort. His sanity. He doesn’t begrudge him the ways he knows he’s safe. They have to get through it together. It’s been a year. Nearly a year. He’s not getting better yet but at least he’s getting help. Kurt misses things from before.  
  
A full night’s sleep.  
  
Performing.  
  
Singing.  
  
Working.  
  
Living.  
  
Blaine misses them too, he knows. They’ll get them back. He can’t tell him off for being too clingy like he used to. Being clingy is the only way Blaine knows he’s alive. It makes Kurt’s skin prickle but he stays composed.  
  
He needs respite.  
  
  
  
hands tied behind my back. forced into a corner. forced onto my knees. can’t feel my legs. beaten. both beaten. bloodied. bruised. heart thump head thump loud but silence. he’s close. it’s dark. i can make him out. he’s tied too. on his knees. he doesn’t have a wall to lean on. we can’t speak. it’s dangerous. they move quickly. they move silently. my chest hurts. blood. a flash of silver. i scream.  
  
  
  
Blaine has a lot of fears.  
  
His biggest fear is that Kurt won’t come home.  
  
One day he might not come home.  
  
Blaine might push him too far.  
  
They might find him.  
  
Someone else might find him.  
  
Kurt isn’t home.  
  
He knows it’s okay.  
  
It isn’t late yet.  
  
Just later.  
  
He turns the TV on to drown out the silence.  
  
He sits with his legs crossed on the floor.  
  
He closes his eyes.  
  
He breathes.  
  
In for seven.  
  
Out for eleven.  
  
The key in the lock makes Blaine jump.  
  
He’s been breathing for thirty minutes.  
  
He hugs Kurt tight and Kurt whispers his apology as he returns the squeeze.  
  
Class ran late.  
  
Delays on the subway.  
  
His phone died.  
  
He shows Blaine the phone and it’s black and lifeless.  
  
He’s home now.  
  
He’s safe.  
  
They’re safe.  
  
  
  
“You have to write it down.”  
“It’s hard.”  
“I know.”  
“You remember more than I do.”  
“But I don’t see your nightmares. You have to write down the nightmares.”  
“It’s hard to remember them.”  
“That’s why we’re doing this now. While it’s fresh.”  
“It’s three in the morning.”  
“I know.”  
“You have work at seven.”  
“I know.”  
“You shouldn’t worry about me.”  
“You’re the most important thing in my life.”  
“Kurt…”  
“Write down what you remember. Anything you remember. Then once you’re done, we’ll go back to bed.”  
“…thank you.”  
  
  
  
Days are slow.  
  
It’s like being a child again.  
  
Blaine remembers the way days used to stretch on forever when he was small.  
  
He doesn’t remember them being this terrifying.  
  
The world lacks color.  
  
Everything is black and white.  
  
Everything is quiet.  
  
Everything is slow.  
  
He wants to feel sad but he can’t.  
  
He can’t feel sad.  
  
He can’t feel.  
  
He can’t.  
  
  
  
brokenbrokenbroken.  
you’re not broken.  
damaged.destroyed.worthless.  
repairable.  
no.  
i promise.  
  
  
  
Kurt meets Blaine from his appointments. Sometimes he’s shaken afterward. He’s talked too much. He needs comfort. He’s not the only one.  
  
Waiting feels like drowning.  
  
He can’t tell Blaine.  
  
He can’t add to his stress.  
  
He takes the therapist aside after Blaine comes out and tells her.  
  
Blaine needs help more but Kurt needs help too.  
  
It feels endless and desperate and he needs someone, anyone. He needs to get it out. He needs support so he can be support. He makes an appointment and doesn’t tell Blaine.  
  
He’s worked so hard.  
  
He’s worked too hard.  
  
He’s cared so much for Blaine and so little for himself.  
  
They share a Big Mac for dinner and go to bed early.  
  
Greasy and full.  
  
Blaine tenses at the darkness every night.  
  
Kurt has started to tense before he does.  
  
  
  
 _Blaine:  
• Your therapy appointment is at 4. I’ll meet you after.  
• Today I have theatre history and modern American drama. I won’t be able to answer the phone between 10-12 and 1-3.  
• You have medication to take at 9am. Check your ‘Friday’ box if you can’t remember taking it.  
• I’m not working this weekend. If you feel up to it, you can go down the street and rent a movie. If you’re not up to it, we can do it together on our way home.  
  
Love you,  
Kurt xx_  
  
  
  
Write down how you feel.  
  
Write down everything.  
  
The assignment is simple.  
  
The execution is not.  


i am sad  
i am guilty  
i am empty  
i don’t feel  
i know what i should feel  
i can’t think  
i can’t make decisions  
i am being punished  
i cannot love  
i cannot make love  
i cannot fuck  
i’m holding him back  
i’m holding myself back  
i don’t remember what it feels like to sleep  
i cannot sleep  
i cannot stay awake  
i cannot remember  
i cannot forget  
i am a paradox

  
  
  
  
Sometimes Blaine gets angry.  
  
He hates it.  
  
It comes out of nowhere.  
  
Explodes.  
  
Bang.  
  
Like a gunshot.  
  
 _Bang._  
  
Like the gunshot.  
  
The milk had gone bad so Kurt made tea instead.  
  
Chamomile.  
  
Blaine threw the rotten milk across the apartment.  
  
Smashed the teacups.  
  
Slammed the bedroom door behind him and cried.  
  
He hates it.  
  
He never got angry before.  
  
Not like that.  
  
Only at himself.  
  
He likes chamomile tea.  
  
He hates himself.  
  
Kurt doesn’t come back to bed.  
  
Blaine can hear him outside cleaning up.  
  
He’s crying.  
  
He can’t do anything.  
  
Neither of them can.  
  
  
  
Symptoms: Regular nightmares reliving trauma (details forgotten quickly). Constant low to mediumlevel anxiety. Periodic angry outbursts. Avoidance leading to signs of developing agoraphobia. Unable to return to school, work.  
  
  
  
Kurt’s been taking control of the money. It had been a joint venture before but Blaine wasn’t up to it. He didn’t need the extra stress.  
  
There are bills. So many bills.  
  
The hospital bill for Kurt’s shoulder reconstruction. Medication. Tuition payments. Rent. Utilities. Therapy. Living is expensive and Kurt is working as much as he can but it isn’t enough.  
  
He asked his dad for money to help out and hadn’t told Blaine.  
  
He’s kept them afloat for this long.  
  
They’re sinking.  
  
  
  
“I feel bad that I’m struggling to cope. He’s the one suffering.”  
“You’re allowed to struggle. You went through the trauma as well.”  
“But it made him sick. He’s sick. I should be taking care of him.”  
“And you are. But you need to allow yourself room to breathe too. How’s your shoulder?”  
“Almost better. My physical therapist says I should only need a couple more sessions. I can take dance again next semester.”  
“That’s good news.”  
“Yeah.”  
“You’re not happy about it?”  
“I don’t know if I’m going back next semester.”  
“Why not?”  
“Blaine needs me. It’s hard enough for him when I leave now and I’m only going to school part time. I’m sleeping about as much as he is. Less, I think, because at least he does sleep for a while. I’m always half-awake, I’ve got to be ready to get up and heat the milk as soon as his nightmare begins.”  
“That can’t have helped your recovery.”  
“I had some infections while the wound was healing. And it took longer than it should’ve. I took the antibiotics but not the painkillers. They made me drowsy. I needed to be awake.”  
“You lived with a recently reconstructed shoulder without painkillers?”  
“Blaine was more important. He is more important.”  
“I can’t decide whether I’m more impressed or horrified.”  
“It wasn’t so bad.”  
  
  
  
He’s tried everything.  
  
Sleeping pills don’t work.  
  
They just make him more confused and disoriented when he wakes up.  
  
He tried some herbal medicine but it made him gag and vomit.  
  
One time he tried vodka.  
  
It burned his insides and the fuzziness in his head made him panic.  
  
He spent the night shaking and sobbing into Kurt’s chest.  
  
In the morning he swore he was never going to drink again.  
  
He can’t remember feeling rested.  
  
He can’t remember sleeping a full night.  
  
He can’t remember a time before nightmares and panic and warm milk.  
  
He really can’t remember.  
  
He wonders sometimes if dying would be better than this.  
  
His memory is fading.  
  
He can’t tell if it’s the sleep deprivation making everything fade away or if he’s really losing his mind.  
  
He can’t find the words to tell Kurt.  
  
  


 

think remember know work work make your brain work you’re broken you’re useless you can’t remember you’re going to forget everything you’re going to forget him remember remember remember remember remember remember remember  _I can’t_

  
  
  
  
Kurt wants to tell him everything.  
  
Wants to tell him everything that happened that night.  
  
He can’t, he knows he can’t.  
  
It’ll be better for him if he remembers by himself.  
  
It could influence the nightmares if he tells him.  
  
Make them worse.  
  
They’re already bad enough.  
  
It kills Kurt not to say anything.  
  
He remembers everything in crystal clear detail.  
  
Darkness and cold and shattering pain.  
  
Sometimes he wishes he could forget, but he looks at Blaine and his anguish in forgetting and remembering doesn’t seem so bad.  
  
He wants to take the dark holes in Blaine’s memory and plant flowers in them until they’re bright and blooming.  
  
He does his shoulder exercises while they watch TV together and tries not to curse when it twinges.  
  
Pushed too far.  
  
He’ll never recover if he keeps pushing too much.  
  
  
  
Sometimes Blaine forgets that Kurt is recovering too.  
  
Not in the same way he forgets his nightmares.  
  
Kurt takes care of him.  
  
Kurt works and goes to school and lives his life.  
  
Lives it the best he can.  
  
When Kurt does his exercises and cringes at the pain he remembers.  
  
Kurt’s recovering.  
  
He’s tried really hard to hide it.  
  
Ever since the sling came off he’s been pretending.  
  
Blaine reaches over.  
  
Kisses his cheek.  
  
Rests his hand gently on Kurt’s shoulder.  
  
He’s having a good evening.  
  
He feels almost normal tonight.  
  
This small sign of support is the least he can do.  
  
  
  
hands tied behind my back. forced into a corner. forced onto my knees.  **he’s there. i can’t reach him.** can’t feel my legs.  **i can’t see him.**  beaten. both beaten.  **i can hear him.**  bloodied. bruised.  **i can hear him breathing.**  heart thump head thump loud but silence.  **he’s scared.**  he’s close. it’s dark.  **i’m scared.**  i can make him out. he’s tied too.  **i don’t know how we got here.**  on his knees. he doesn’t have a wall to lean on.  **i can taste blood.**  we can’t speak.  **they hit me.**  it’s dangerous.  **they kicked me.**  they move quickly. **they hurt me.**  they move silently. my chest hurts.  **they hurt him too.**  blood. a flash of silver.  **i don’t know why.**  i scream.   
  
  
  
Outside is hard.  
  
It’s getting harder.  
  
The fear has been settling slowly all year.  
  
He can’t get to the front door without panicking any more.  
  
Kurt’s at work.  
  
He has an appointment.  
  
He has to go.  
  
He can’t.  
  
He sits on the floor and cries.  
  
He stands at the window and stares.  
  
He ignores the phone ringing.  
  
Kurt comes home and he tells him therapy was fine.  
  
Kurt can see through the lie.  
  
He doesn’t say anything.  
  
Blaine calls and makes another appointment.  
  
One that he knows Kurt can take him to.  
  
  
  
“Maybe we should move.”  
“What?”  
“Move away. Out of the city.”  
“Do you want to move?”  
“I just think that maybe it would be better to be somewhere else for a while. Less stressful. Less pressure.”  
“I don’t want to leave.”  
“We could go home. There’s plenty of room at my dad’s. It’d be easier, I think.”  
“I don’t want to run away.”  
“It’s not running away. It’s taking a break. To recover.”  
“We’ve been recovering for a year.”  
“Think about it. Please.”  
“…Kurt?”  
“Yes?”  
“How broke are we?”  
“Very.”  
  
  
  
There are nights when Blaine doesn’t have nightmares.  
  
They just happen to be the nights when he doesn’t sleep.  
  
He watches the time tick away.  
  
Stares into blackness.  
  
Listens to Kurt.  
  
If he doesn’t sleep then he doesn’t have nightmares.  
  
If he doesn’t have nightmares then Kurt gets to rest.  
  
Kurt needs to rest.  
  
He counts the seconds until they get too high.  
  
He turns the shadows into stories.  
  
Kurt snores once and it makes him jump.  
  
He is jealous of his sleeping lover.  
  
He stares at the clock.  
  
It’s 4:48.  
  
He begins to cry.  
  
  


 

Diagnosis: Post-traumatic stress disorder.

  
  
  
  
“I’m not stressed.”  
“It’s just a name.”  
“But I’m not stressed.”  
“You’re not relaxed.”  
  
  
  
He’s awake before five again.  
  
It’s a desperately lonely time.  
  
No sound outside.  
  
Even New York is asleep.  
  
The city has given Blaine its famous insomnia.  
  
The sun is starting to rise.  
  
He remembers his first night in the city.  
  
He and Kurt walked around all night until the sun came up.  
  
They watched the day bloom over the Hudson.  
  
Then they went home and slept all day.  
  
Blaine wants to go down to the river and watch the sunrise.  
  
He could jump in.  
  
He thinks about just putting his shoes on and going.  
  
He almost does it.  
  
He can’t.  
  
It’s too much.  
  
Too terrifying.   
  
The thought of leaving the apartment makes panic prickle down his spine.  
  
He stays in bed and watches the daylight brighten.  
  
Kurt is asleep.  
  
He looks peaceful.  
  
  
  
Doxepin, 100mg. Increase in restlessness and anxiety. Discontinued following severe nausea.  
  
Flurazepam, 30mg. Slept. Cooperative.  
  
Amoxapine, 50mg. Complained of constipation. Discontinued following rash.  
  
Diazepam, 10mg. Increased sexual interest. Unable to have an erection. Shakiness. Discontinued at patient request.  
  
Sertraline, 25mg increased to 50mg. Sudden increase in suicidal thoughts. Discontinued following hospitalization.  
  
  
  
“I need to ask you something.”  
“Go ahead.”  
“I haven’t talked to Blaine about it yet. But I was thinking maybe we could come and stay for a while?”  
“Kurt, this house is always your home. You don’t have to ask.”  
“I’ll run it by him.”  
“I think it’s a smart thing to do. Very brave.”  
“We’ve been strong for so long.”  
“I know, kid.”  
  
  
  
Kurt takes a tablet every morning.  
  
He was wary of medication at first but it makes him feel better.  
  
It’s a low dose antidepressant.  
  
He isn’t depressed, really, but it helps him get through the day.  
  
He had to admit to Blaine that he’s been going to therapy too but that was easier than he’d thought it would be.   
  
It’s easier now.  
  
They’re in it together.  
  
Blaine struggles with medication.  
  
None of them seem to fit him.  
  
They make him sick or shaky or give him a rash.  
  
Watching him struggle is hard.  
  
It always has been.  
  
Kurt feels guilty that it was easy for him. The first medicine he tried worked fine. Worked great.  
  
Everything is harder for Blaine.  
  
It isn’t fair.  
  
  


                                                                                   It starts with

                                medicine

                                                                                                                                                                       100

                                                  tablets from a bottle

                                                                                                                   none have

            worked yet

                                                                      93

                          the new pills

                                                                                                                                     happy pills

                                    aren’t working

                                                                                             86

                                                                  he feels angry

                       at least

                                                                                                                                                                         he feels

                                       79

   he doesn’t

                                                                              deserve any of this

                                                                                                                                                   he didn’t ask

                                   to break

                                                                                                     72

        the future is hopeless

                                                                                                       things cannot improve

                                                sanity

                                                                                                                                                                                                              is gone

                     65

                                                            he’s floating 

                                                                                                                                               but it’s not free

                                it’s not light

                                                                                     it’s heavy like iron

                                                                                                                                                                                58

 

it takes less time than he’d thought  
it feels like minutes  
51  
44  
37  
37  
37  
and soon  
so soon  
everything stops  
he’s going  
blurry and dark  
and  
then  
he’s  
gone.

  
  
  
  
Kurt worries about Blaine.  
  
He’s been worrying about him for a long time.  
  
It comes with the territory of being the boyfriend.  
  
The fiancé.  
  
The caretaker.  
  
He knows Blaine’s scared he’ll leave him.  
  
He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it.  
  
He could leave and his meager, comparatively insignificant pain would be better.  
  
But Blaine’s would be worse. So much worse. And Kurt loves Blaine.  
  
That’s just it.  
  
He stays because he loves Blaine.  
  
He stays because he needs Blaine.  
  
He stays because Blaine needs him.  
  
He stays because one day they’ll be better, they’ll recover, they’ll get married and everything will be normal again.  
  
He stays because he’s kidding himself.  
  
He stays because he can’t go.  
  
He stays because there is no other choice.  
  
He stays because he’s an idiot.  
  
He stays because Blaine wouldn’t survive without him.  
  
He stays because he loves Blaine.  
  
  
  
dark cold loud quiet break rip pour sear hurt dark cold loud quiet break rip pour sear hurt dark cold loud quiet break rip pour sear hurt quiet dark loud cold scream sear blood rip hurt blood quiet dark loud rip sear scream hurt cold scream blood dark rip quiet hurt sear loud blood pour rip scream cold quiet weak dark sear blood pour rip scream cold quiet weak dark sear blood pour rip scream cold quiet weak dark sear   
  
flash

 

flicker

float

  
  
  
  
There’s a clarity in suicide.  
  
Blaine hadn’t realized.  
  
He thinks he can float.  
  
He thinks he can remember.  
  
He can remember everything.  
  
He doesn’t want this.  
  
He wants Kurt.  
  
He doesn’t want to -  
  
  


“I’m here, I’m here.”  
“You’re here.”  
“You’re okay.”  
“Good.”  
“I missed you.”  
“I didn’t want to.”  
“It was the medication.”  
“Huh?”  
“The meds. For your brain. They broke it more. That’s all.”  
“I don’t like the meds.”  
“Me either.”  
“I like you.”  
“I like you too.”  
“You’ve seen the worst of me.”  
“And I still love you.”  
“I want to get better.”  
“I know.”

  
  
  
  
He’s limp and broken.  
  
On the floor.  
  
He feels cold.  
  
Kurt almost passes out. Almost throws up.  
  
He has a pulse.  
  
He’s breathing.  
  
He isn’t dead.  
  
He isn’t dead yet.  
  
He can’t be dead.  
  
He calls an ambulance and lies down beside him.  
  
Kisses his skin and holds his limp hand and whispers to him in case he can hear.  
  
You’re going to be okay.  
  
It’s going to be okay.  
  
He doesn’t believe it sometimes.  
  
He doesn’t believe it right now.  
  
He says it to convince himself.  
  
He’s barely coherent when the paramedics ask him questions.  
  
He cries when Blaine is taken away through doors he can’t pass.  
  
  
  
 _Darkness.  
There’s something.  
A hint of a memory but it’s fleeting.  
Gone before it can be caught.  
Everything is empty again._  
  
  
  
The psychiatrists are nice.  
  
Blaine feels tired and weak but he doesn’t mind talking to them.  
  
He’s never felt suicidal before.  
  
Hopeless, perhaps.  
  
Distressed, maybe.  
  
Never suicidal.  
  
They determine that it was simply due to the medication.  
  
There’s a suicide risk with some treatments, they tell him, particularly in young people.  
  
Blaine thinks that’s deeply ironic.  
  
He keeps his thought to himself.  
  
  
  
broken so broken so fucked up you tried to die  
not broken enough to die  
not broken enough to live

where’s the light?

  
  
  
  
Blaine signs the paperwork and Kurt can only feel relieved.  
  
He refused treatment for so long.  
  
He spent months insisting everything was fine.  
  
The hospital will help him.  
  
He’s going to get better.  
  
He’s smiling as Kurt leaves but it looks weak and forced.  
  
This is the best place for him.  
  
They both know that.  
  
  
  
7am wake up make bed get dressed 8am breakfast (one bagel, one bowl of coco puffs, orange juice) 8:45am medication 9am group therapy 10am medicine education 11am exercise 12pm lunch (tuna sandwich, sour cream and onion chips, grapes, piece of chocolate cake, lemonade) 12:45pm leisure time and phone (call kurt, read) 2pm music therapy 3pm journals 4pm snack and phone (call kurt again, one banana) 5pm group therapy 6pm dinner (grilled chicken, carrots, beans, mashed potatoes, chocolate pudding, apple juice) 7pm medication and individual therapy 7:45pm shower and phone (call kurt again) 8:30pm movie and socialization 10pm bedtime  
  
  
  
Blaine sleeps a lot the first few days.  
  
They have him jacked up on sleeping medication and he only wakes up to eat.  
  
It feels a lot like being a zombie.  
  
After two days of medication-induced rest, he’s feeling better.  
  
After three, he wakes up and doesn’t feel exhausted.  
  
He’d forgotten what being rested was like.  
  
The muscles in his back and shoulders feel looser.  
  
His head doesn’t ache.  
  
Now the doctors can start the real work.  
  
Now he can start the real work.  
  
He doesn’t talk in group at first.  
  
They said that’s okay.  
  
New people can be scared to begin with.  
  
Just listening to other people open up helps.  
  
He feels less alone.  
  
He calls Kurt as much as he can.  
  
Even when there’s nothing new to report on either end since last time.  
  
Just knowing he’s there, waiting, is worth everything.  
  
  
  
silence. darkness. an uncomfortable hospital bed. no warm milk. no comforting touch. just a buzzer to call someone. a nurse comes. he clings and calms. she gives him a pill and writes it in his notes. he goes back to sleep.  
  
  
  
At first, Kurt can’t sleep without Blaine.  
  
He drifts and dozes and wakes up with a start and panics because he’s not there.  
  
He knows Blaine is safe. Blaine is resting.  
  
Once he’s awake, once he’s caught up on some of the sleep he’s missed, he’ll start improving.  
  
The first phone call feels like a lifeline.  
  
Blaine tells him about the hospital.  
  
The days sound busy. He knows Blaine won’t like the journal sessions. He knows Blaine will love music therapy.   
  
He knows Blaine will feel awkward and guarded in group sessions at first. He’s never been very good at talking about his feelings.   
  
Kurt wonders if they’ll let him sing.  
  
The apartment feels empty and lonely but it’s a relief at the same time.  
  
He starts to sleep full nights. He tidies and cleans and works and goes to class.  
  
Knowing Blaine is where he needs to be feels like freedom.  
  
Kurt has tried to be his caretaker for too long.  
  
He needs professional care. Just for a while. Just to build him back up. Reorient him. Help him to find a medication that won’t make him sicker and prepare him to face the world again.  
  
  
  
Blaine doesn’t speak to anyone for a few days.  
  
He’s overwhelmed and scared and somehow everyone else seems to be saner than him.  
  
They’re all patients in a psych ward.  
  
None of them are particularly sane or they wouldn’t be there.  
  
The first friend he makes is discharged the next day.  
  
He feels lonely again.  
  
It’s a transient place.  
  
Most people are there for the first time.  
  
Some are seasoned visitors.  
  
Some people only need to be there for a few days.  
  
Some will be there for months.  
  
People leaving isn’t a sad thing.  
  
It shouldn’t be a sad thing.  
  
It means they’re getting better.  
  
Blaine talks to more people after he realizes that.  
  
He finds a group of PTSD sufferers and they band together.  
  
He tells them he survived a kidnapping.  
  
The words stun him as they come out of his mouth.  
  
  
  
Kurt has to write it down.  
  
The hospital has asked him to write a full account of the events to the best of his memory. It’s a therapy they’re trying with Blaine.  
  
They read out everything that happened. The entire memory. It brings it out of repression, then they give him a drug that blocks some receptors in his brain. It removes the trauma, makes it just another story without the emotional attachment.  
  
Writing it down is hard.  
  
He’s talked about it.  
  
Talked to doctors and police officers and lawyers and his dad.  
  
He feels like he might have talked it into a different memory.  
  
It’s been a year.  
  
  
  
 _It was an evening in late July. We were walking home from the movies, even though it would take an hour, because the weather was so nice and I didn’t want to cram into a disgusting, sweaty subway car when it was still 90 degrees outside. We were getting closer to home, only a few blocks away, and we walked down a side street. It’s one we used all the time because it was a shortcut home. There was a restaurant on one side and a shut down nightclub on the other. There was no one else in the street, but there never usually was. We walked along the nightclub side of the street because the restaurant side had some dumpsters in the way and they smelled terrible in the heat.  
I don’t remember the exact order of events from here. It was a blur, but this is the best of my recollection. We were grabbed. We didn’t see who they were. They were bigger than us, stronger. There was a dark room. They beat us up. Punching and kicking and hitting us until we were dazed and winded and useless. They tied you up first. Ankles and wrists. They made you kneel in the corner of the room. They tied me the same way and left me in the middle. There wasn’t much light but there was enough that I could see you. We were too scared to talk.  
They disappeared and it felt like forever. When they came back, they had a gun.They put the gun in my face. They asked me something. I can’t remember what it was. I was frozen in fear and couldn’t answer. They were about to pull the trigger and you screamed.  
You screamed so loudly. You made them jump. They misaimed and the gun went off but it shot my arm. It was loud and kept ringing around the room. I fell down and smashed my shoulder. You kept screaming. I passed out about here. They ran and the gunshot and the screaming was enough to attract attention and we were saved.  
They had no motive.  
They were have-a-go criminals, trying to pull off a kidnapping like their movie heroes.  
They forgot to put the silencer on.  
You remembered everything until you knew I was okay. Once I was out of surgery and awake and had a nice new bionic shoulder, you started to forget. You started to slip. Like you were just running on autopilot before.  
They managed to track them down. They were prosecuted. It’s safer now._  
  
  
  
Blaine stays for six weeks.  
  
He starts to enjoy it.  
  
He likes the structure. He likes the people.  
  
He likes that he’s understood.  
  
He starts to understand himself.  
  
He learns ways to cope.  
  
They trial different medications and eventually find one that doesn’t give him horrible side effects.  
  
He doesn’t have nightmares.  
  
He sleeps all night and eventually does it without pills.  
  
When he leaves, he’s gifted several cards that people have made during craft time.  
  
The staff give him cards too.  
  
He falls into Kurt’s arms and cries when he comes to pick him up.  
  
They’ve spoken on the phone multiple times every day and Kurt has visited plenty but this is different.  
  
This is his real life Kurt.  
  
He feels so happy.  
  
He’s sent home with his drugs and his prescription and his follow up appointment.  
  
They give Kurt a pack of information about his treatment and his progress and his forward care plan.  
  
Walking into the apartment feels strange.  
  
Home always feels unfamiliar and yet unchanged after an absence.  
  
They have sex for the first time in months.  
  
With Kurt’s shoulder and Blaine’s brain, it’s not been easy to arrange.  
  
They lie together afterward, naked and open.  
  
Blaine curls tightly around Kurt’s torso with his head on Kurt’s chest.  
  
He listens to his heart and reaches up to touch the scars on the opposite shoulder.  
  
He thinks that, if heaven exists, it has to be something like this.  
  
They fall asleep together. Wake up together. Make breakfast together.  
  
  
  
They do go back to Ohio.  
  
It’s not permanent. It’s an extended vacation. It’s respite.  
  
Burt and Carole are happy to have them.  
  
Kurt takes a semester off school and Blaine delays his return.  
  
They stay until after New Year’s.  
  
They visit with Blaine’s parents but they stay at the Hummel house.  
  
Blaine feels guilty that he didn’t tell them about everything that had happened sooner.  
  
His mom hugs him hard and tells him it’s okay.  
  
His dad does the same and he can’t help but grin.  
  
They hug Kurt too, but it’s gentler. They’re afraid of hurting his shoulder. Kurt looks grateful for that.  
  
The four parents have a meeting.  
  
Burt has never liked Blaine’s dad much, but they’re civil.  
  
They agree to help their kids out. Burt knows they’re broke after struggling through hospitals and school payments with only Kurt’s small income from the diner. They pool their resources and present Kurt and Blaine with a check.  
  
Kurt cries. Blaine cries. They both insist that it’s too much. The parents insist that it isn’t.  
  
It’s enough to settle their debts. Pay their rent. Pay for a wedding.  
  
They set a date and start doing research online.  
  
Kurt makes phone calls. Blaine sends emails.   
  
Kurt decides he’s making their suits. He always imagined that would be an option, and he really wants something to do with his hands now his shoulder is healed.  
  
Blaine relishes the idea of getting married in utterly unique apparel. A Kurt Hummel original. He oversees the sketches and Kurt even pretends to listen to his suggestions.  
  
The holidays are small and cozy and perfect. They eat wildly at Thanksgiving and Burt takes Blaine to watch the Buckeyes. At Christmas, they drink eggnog and build snowmen and watch holiday movies. They see a handful of old friends, back in town for the holidays. They re-enact their inaugural Christmas duet in the Anderson’s music room and Cooper chimes in with his opinions. They eat chocolate and candy canes until they can barely move to lift their peppermint hot chocolates to their lips.  
  
There are bad days but they’re getting better.  
  
Most days are good now and the bad ones are easier to handle.  
  
  
  
They move to a new apartment.  
  
It’s tough; their place feels like home. But it holds too many bad memories.  
  
A fresh start in a new home.  
  
They move out of Manhattan. They find somewhere twice the size for less rent in Queens. It’s a quieter, safer neighborhood. Kurt finds a new job in a restaurant nearer the new place. He doesn’t have to sing and dance on tables there. He just has to take orders and carry plates. They pay more as well, and take his injury into consideration. He gets to take a wheeled tray out if an order is too heavy for him.  
  
  
  
Blaine walks back onto the NYADA campus.  
  
It’s so many victories.  
  
He’s happy.  
  
He’s breathing.  
  
He’s sleeping.  
  
Kurt had wanted to come with him but Blaine wanted this to be as unremarkable to everyone around him as it was remarkable to himself.  
  
He wanted to come alone and he’s glad he did.  
  
He signs up for the spring musical and smiles at the name he left on the sheet.  
  
Blaine Hummel-Anderson.  
  
He finds a corner to take his morning pill, checks his brand new schedule, and heads to dance class.


End file.
